


Warlord

by DigitalThespian



Category: One Step From Eden (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Kinda, Post-Apocalypse, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalThespian/pseuds/DigitalThespian
Summary: Saffron had made a lot of mistakes in her life. Everyone had. But this..Why did it have to bethis?EDIT: This is the old version of the prologue to Warlord to Warden, and has been left posted for the sake of archival/posterity
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	Warlord

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dark Matter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21162677) by [Garlyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garlyle/pseuds/Garlyle). 



> This should stand alone fairly well as long as you're familiar with the characters to some extent, but you'll get more out of it if you read Dark Matter! First Blood is technically part of this timeline as well, though as it currently stands I only reference it once in passing. I might do another chapter where I draw more heavily on it; we'll see!
> 
> It only lets me list one 'inspired by' work, so here's the link to First Blood by PaperCrease!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21180776

Saffron approached cautiously; there was no way of knowing who was in charge of this mercenary camp, and she didn't want to take any more fights than she had to. There were makeshift banners lining the outside perimeter made of old military uniforms; each one seemed to be a patchwork belonging to several different companies, sometimes even different _nations_ in one banner, and no two banners were the same. They all had one thing in common, however, and that was that nearly all of them were bloodstained to some degree, and they all had a nearly pristine emblem of some variety dead center.

Some were clearly handmade, but others Saffron recognized. Most that she did were military company emblems from what used to be her homeland. Her eyes scanned each one, trying to glean as much information as she could before she came face-to-face with the camp's inhabitants. Forewarned is forearmed, after all.

The next banner she saw stopped her in her tracks; she would say her blood turned to ice, but.. she knew what that felt like from her fight with the girl a few weeks prior—Selicy, she had said.

..The horror that gripped her now was so much worse. She knew what the banners represented now; each mercenary had their own, and this one.. this one was.. She _knew_ that emblem.

It was the emblem of the Pioneer; the chief engineer and head of research and development of her homeland's military defense branch. The spell loader on her arm was designed by the owner of that emblem.

..Hazel.

And her banner was longer than all but one other, the uniforms comprising it full of tattered holes. She didn't want to think about what that meant. She especially didn't want to think about who the longest banner could have belonged to.

But she was going to have to. If Hazel was here.. maybe the mercenary band would be on her side. Maybe the banners were a warning to ex-soldiers turned bandit.

_Be-beep!_

Saffron froze. She knew that sound, too. She darted backward just in time to avoid the shot, the report of a gun turret echoing through the silence. The camp broke into an uproar, and the sound of pounding footsteps began immediately. She quickly checked her gauntlet, making sure it was fully loaded; if it came to a fight, she wasn't going to be the one dying today.

"Don't move! Hands where we can see them!" Saffron looked up to see.. a group of kids. They couldn't be older than twenty, maybe even sixteen. They held various forms of military weaponry, each of which appeared to be custom made—or at least retrofitted—for them specifically.

That confirmed her suspicions about Hazel's presence, but one thing bothered her. Why had the turret fired at her? If it _was_ Hazel's, the target acquisition system should have recognized her. Maybe it was broken? She could hope. She raised her hands in surrender. "I'm not here to fight, I just want to talk to your leader."

"Drop the weapon!"

Uh-oh. "It doesn't come off. Or—it does, but I don't have the tools to do it anymore."

The spokesman of the group was quiet a moment. "..Fine. We'll have the gearhead do it." The mercenary jerked his head towards the center of the camp, and the rest quickly surrounded her.

She did her best to stay calm, moving where the group directed her. She was quickly losing any semblance of control of this situation. She looked around, noting the disorderly arrangements of tents and collapsible structures. A nomadic group, then. She wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse. One of the mercenaries split off in a different direction, though Saffron couldn't say why.

Soon enough, she was brought to a structure that was larger than the rest, the entrance flanked by two pairs of turrets. They swiveled to point at the group, but the leader of the group spoke up, "Stand down. Authorization code bravo-november-three."

Verbal, then. She breathed an internal sigh of relief; the entrance turret simply targeted her because she didn't identify herself, which made sense considering the patchwork nature of the group. She would simply ask Hazel herself once they arrived. They entered the door, only to be met with.. a cross between a war room and a warlord's den. Fur rugs, a table with a map of the surrounding area, and a very large chair—a throne, she realized.

Had Hazel gone mad? What was going on here? It was then Saffron noticed the young man lounging on the throne, a large weapon of some kind leaned against it. "Oh? And who did you bring me this time? Another military bootlicker? A merchant? A new recruit?" His tone was pleasant enough, and the pitch was a low tenor; but there was something.. _wrong_ about it. It wasn't simply the dark undercurrent, the thinly veiled disdain.. something fundamental about the sound itself seemed off somehow.

"She says she wants to talk. Calen is fetching the gearhead to divest her of her weapon."

The boy—man? His age was somewhat ambiguous, he was clearly older than the rest, but he was still easily young enough to be her son, if she had one—waved lazily, dismissively. "I'm not worried. I haven't been bested yet," He finally turned to fix Saffron with a piercing, challenging gaze. " _And I never will._ "

She was suddenly concerned for Hazel's safety. Was she being held prisoner?

After a split second, his eyes widened. " _You_ ," He stood abruptly. "I know you. You worked with my mother."

"Your.. mother?" Saffron felt like she had been struck by lightning. This bloodthirsty youth was the son of one of her former coworkers? But the only one who had been pregnant at the right time was..

She suddenly realized why his voice seemed so wrong. He was magically inert, his voice carrying only through the air, and not the mana suffusing it.

A familiar voice drifted through the door. "This better be important, you assholes, I'm in the middle of—" It cut off. ".. _Saffron_? You're _alive_?! What are you _doing_ here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." Saffron turn to face her old friend, noting with sadness the scars on her arms and face. "What horrors have you seen, Hazel? What happened to us?"

To Saffron's surprise, Hazel's face twisted into a snarl. " _YOU HAPPENED, SAFFRON!_ " She slashed a hand through the air. "Don't think I don't know what you did! I told you it would be a disaster, but did you listen?! Did you stop and think for _five fucking seconds_ that maybe, just maybe, the Pioneer knows what she's talking about?"

"Hazel, I—"

" _NO! **You** listen!_ You're the reason I've had to kill so many people! _**You** did this to me_," She yanked up the hem of her shirt under her overalls, exposing a ragged scar covering the left side of her torso. Saffron gasped, covering her mouth. "So just shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear it."

"Hazel, I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen, I—"

The young man on the throne spoke up again, his voice quiet and dangerous. "I believe the lady said she didn't want to hear it."

Saffron whirled, an expression of disbelief on her face. "Wha—This doesn't concern you!"

"I disagree. Anything that concerns my company concerns me. If my second in command says to shut up and listen.." His hand drifted over casually to rest on the butt of his weapon. "..You best shut up and listen."

"..Second in command..?" Saffron turned back to Hazel, who had tucked her shirt back into place. "You're..?"

"Doing my best to clean up the mess _you_ made?" Saffron flinched.

Saffron was silent, and Hazel nodded grimly. "Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have _meaningful_ things to attend to."

The mercenary who led her in spoke up again. "What do you want us to do with her, Gunner? Should we kill her or let her go? Or should we hold her here?"

The boy on the throne—Gunner—spoke up again. "Hazel? It's up to you. You're the one who was wronged the most."

"..I want her to live with what she's done. But make no mistake, _Saffron_ ," Hazel turned to leave. "If I see you again.. I'll kill you myself."

"You heard the lady. Get her out of my camp."


End file.
